


Butterfly

by khrysallis



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:59:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khrysallis/pseuds/khrysallis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as first meetings go, Kris thinks Luhan has left the deepest impression in him. After all, who actually engages in phone sex on a bus?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterfly

_Beautiful butterfly_

_You left me like the wind  
You flew away after fooling my love  
Leaving only your scent_

 

 

There’s something calming about taking bus rides, Kris thinks as he drops several coins into the collection machine and takes his ticket. It’s not as though he doesn’t own a car, or that he doesn’t like driving down the streets of Seoul – he does, almost as much as taking bus rides – but there’s also the thing about being able to really relax while on a bus. At least he doesn't have to feel the blood vessels around his heart constricting whenever he’s stuck behind an annoyingly slow vehicle, or confined behind the wheel when the traffic gets extremely congested by the time the clock strikes five. Besides, he almost never has any plans after work, so he doesn’t find a point in rushing home immediately.  
  
He thinks back on his colleagues’ incredulous expressions when he’d told them he was going to commute home on a bus several months ago, when he had just started working at the Seoul branch of his accounting company, and how Zitao had commented that his Boxter was going to be left to collect dust in the parking lot of his apartment, and he chuckles to himself.  
  
In his defense, it’s Kris’s car, and he gets to have a say on how he’s going to use it.  
  
When Kris walks towards the back of the bus though, he does a double take at how crowded it is. He’s exhausted from work, and the thought of having to stand for an hour and a half – the amount of time it takes for him to get home in the current traffic condition – isn’t at all savoury. He scans the bus for an empty seat, sighing in relief when he spots one a couple of rows down from where he’s standing.  
  
His eyes snap close in bliss when he settles into the seat. It’s not really comfortable, what with its stuffing spilling out from the small tear due to years of use and the metal bar digging into his flesh, but he enjoys the thrum of the engine beneath him. Kris lets his gaze wander around the bus soon after, just as he always does. Part of his relaxation routine on the bus comes from observing the other passengers; it takes his mind off the work waiting for him when he gets home.  
  
It doesn’t take long before his gaze lands on the person seated next to him, and Kris’s eyes widen marginally. He wonders for a moment if he’s looking at a lifelike doll – the girl has wide, innocent eyes which are fixated on the fast-moving scenery outside, lips in a small pout, with long, brown curls tumbling over her shoulders, and porcelain white skin disappearing underneath the fabric of her floral blouse – but the rhythmic rise and falls of her chest (not that he has been staring, not really) tells Kris that she is indeed a living person.  
  
Kris only realises that he has been staring a little too blatantly when her phone gives a shrill ring, and they both jump at the sound. The girl flashes an apologetic smile at him before she retrieves her phone from her purse, and Kris finds himself momentarily smitten by her. He clears his throat in embarrassment when his gaze lingers on her again for a second too long, and glances elsewhere instead, giving her the privacy that’s due.  
  
“Hello?” She says, voice a little cautious, before gasping sharply at something the person calling her had said. “Right now? Can’t it wait?”  
  
Kris fights the urge to look at her again when he feels the weight of her gaze on him, and shifts a little closer towards the aisle away from her. The minuscule distance probably isn’t going to help much with keeping her conversation private, but that’s all Kris could afford to do for her right now.  
  
There’s a short lapse of silence, before the girl speaks up again. “Oh. Fine, I’ll do it then,” she replies solemnly, and the next thing that comes out of her lips has Kris completely stunned. “You horny bastard. You’re so horny you can’t even wait until we get off the bus to be fucked, can you?”  
  
Her voice has taken on a sultry edge and– Is she dirty talking someone over the phone in Chinese?  
  
Kris is frozen in his seat, his eyes mechanically scanning the rest of the bus in an attempt to get away, but no one seemed to be alighting anytime soon. In all fairness, the girl’s speaking in Chinese, and it’s not as though she knows he understands the language, with them being in Korea and all. So Kris pulls out his own phone and pretends to mind his own business, all while trying to tune her conversation out.  
  
“Listen up,” she fairly hisses into the phone, and Kris hates the fact that his ears are twitching in response, “we’re on a bus now, and it’s filled to the brim with passengers. So you’ll have to be really, really quiet while I suck you off. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”  
  
Kris suppresses the urge to groan, because _fuck_ , the thought of having a girl like her giving him a blowjob on the bus sounds all too thrilling to Kris. The timbre of her voice sends the blood down south, and Kris shifts around uncomfortably, trying to cross his long legs in the cramped up space.  
  
“Now that’s a good boy, and good boys get rewarded accordingly,” the girl says again, sending more shivers down Kris’s spine. “I’m unzipping your pants, and pulling your half-hard dick out of your boxers.”  
  
Kris swallows thickly and desperately pushes the mental images out of his mind. He chances a look at the girl, hoping she hasn’t noticed his obvious discomfort. He notes that she has a surprisingly straight face on, for all the dirty things she’s spewing into the phone. It’s as though she’s already used to such circumstances, having phone sex with people in public.  
  
Then again, she probably is.  
  
That’s when her voice finds its way back into Kris’s senses. “–I’m bending down and pretending that I’m lying face down on your lap for a short nap, but I’m actually taking your whole length into my mouth. It’s hot, isn’t it?”  
  
Kris gives up stopping himself from eavesdropping. Might as well enjoy the visuals while he’s stuck here next to her.  
  
He imagines her prettily glossed lips forming a tight seal around his dick, taking him inch by slow inch, her slender fingers wrapping around the remainder of his length when she can’t swallow him any further. He imagines her head bobbing up and down in his lap, working up her pace until his fists are curled tightly by his sides, imagines her tongue licking agonisingly slowly across his slit that’s dripping with precum now, before taking him into her mouth all of a sudden again. Her fingers are playing with his balls, and he has to bite hard on his knuckles to stop himself from moaning out loud in the bus. They can’t get caught.  
  
His fingers are tangled in her long brown locks now, gripping hard but not enough to hurt, trying to slow her pace down so that he’ll last. But she’s defiant, keeping a constant rhythm until he’s rocking his hips involuntarily, thrusting into her mouth. She chokes at first, but manages to match her rhythm with his, and her mouth is hot, so fucking hot around his throbbing erection.  
  
She hollows her cheeks around his dick, creating a vacuum that sends a thrill down his spine, teeth scraping against skin, and he’s so close to his release–  
  
“–I’m swallowing all of your load, then I’ll kiss you on the mouth to let you have a taste of yourself.” He hears her say, and Kris silently curses because his train of thoughts has been derailed. Why the fuck did the man get his orgasm so soon?  
  
Kris flushes red when he remembers suddenly that he’s still on the bus, now with a painfully hard dick that’s straining against the fabric of his black slacks and forming a very obvious tent. Kris quickly covers his hard-on with his messenger bag (thank _God_ he has it with him) just as the girl ends the call and slips her phone back into her purse, and he tries to remain straight-faced, as though he hadn’t eavesdropped on her conversation at all.  
  
But the moment he spots a bus stop looming, Kris doesn’t think twice before jamming the side of his fist against the alarm, asking for the driver to stop. He bolts out of the vehicle in two seconds flat, dragging his long-forgotten basketball player persona to the surface, eager to get away from receiving potential embarrassment. He doesn’t even notice the girl staring wide-eyed at him, wondering what’s wrong with him.  
  
That night, Kris spends his time in the shower, standing beneath the running water with his hand fisted around his dick to finish what the girl had started.  
  
Fuck his life.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Kris has heard of the phrase ‘karma bites back like a bitch’ one too many times, but when he bumps into the same girl on the bus a week later, with no available seats except for the one next to hers, he shoots a dismayed look at the heavens above and silently asks what he’s done wrong to deserve this.  
  
It can't possibly be due to him jerking off to the girl’s voice as she vividly described her blowjob session through the phone, can it? He hopes it isn’t too late to beg for forgiveness, because Kris doesn’t think he can last through another session of _that_. He had barely made it out without cumming in his pants the previous time.  
  
Resigned to his fate, Kris’s shoulders slump in defeat as he drags his feet across the bus to take his place next to her. She doesn’t notice him at first, and her phone remains graciously silent for the first half hour of their journey, of which Kris is thankful for. But he’s counted his lucky stars a little _too_ early, because not long after, the girl actually dozes off against his shoulder.  
  
The tenseness is back in Kris’s muscles in a flash; he’s been doing a fine job in ignoring her presence, but now that she’s leaning against him, her warmth seeping through his white dress shirt, all he can think about is the heat of her _mouth_ on him, and that is Not Good. Kris breathes in deeply and squeezes his eyes shut, shifting slightly in his seat so that he’s not looking down the girl’s shirt at her cleavage. It definitely doesn’t help that she has quite a nice rack, or that her top two buttons are undone.  
  
Kris _hasn’t_ been staring.  
  
But it seems that every single force in the world is against him that day, when he finds himself getting thrown forward when the bus driver suddenly slams on the brakes. There’s the sound of tyres screeching against asphalt as the bus comes into an abrupt halt, narrowly avoiding from hitting the car right in front of them. Kris’s first instinct, though, is to wrap his arms around the sleeping girl next to him and cradle her head in his arms. He winces when the back of his arm hits the metal bar of the seat in front of him, but the pain is quickly washed away by relief when he finds the girl unhurt.  
  
“What happened?” The girl asks sleepily, blinking up at Kris through bleary eyes. Kris immediately withdraws his arms as though he’s been burnt, not wanting her to misunderstand his actions, and he blushes at the sight because _damn it she’s so fucking cute_.  
  
Kris’s brain-to-mouth filter joyfully decides to fail him then, however. “Emergency brake. The car in front stopped out of the blue,” he says, and it would’ve been fine, until her eyes widen to an almost comical degree before Kris realises he’s speaking in _Mandarin_ in response to her very Korean question.  
  
Oh _shit_.  
  
“You’re Chinese?!” She exclaims, horrified and suddenly very awake, and Kris is sure he’s mirroring her expressions too. “That means–” The girl covers her mouth with her hand when she comes to a realisation. “–you understood everything I said on the phone last week?”  
  
Great, she actually recognises him. Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ –  
  
“Uh.” He says intelligently. “This is awkward.”  
  
She looks absolutely mortified. “Oh God, I’m so sorry for... for _that_.” She winces a little at the mention of the incident. Kris still thinks she’s cute, and he really wants to kick himself in the head because this is so not the time to harbour such thoughts, goddamnit. “I thought you didn’t understand Chinese and–” She buries her face in her hands again from shame. Kris fights the urge to pull her into a hug and comfort her because it’s downright indecent, never mind that they’re still reeling from the fact that she had phone sex right next to him just a week ago and he’d heard everything.  
  
A long moment passes them by before she peeks through the crevices of her fingers. “I hope I didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable...?”  
  
Kris positively chokes on air at her question. Uncomfortable is an understatement. “No, don’t worry about it. I’m– I’m fine.” He lies, but his body language betrays him when he subconsciously crosses his leg at the slight twitch he feels in his pants. Wrong time to think with the wrong damned head. “I uh– I’m sorry for eavesdropping on your conversation with your boyfriend.”  
  
The girl’s eyes widen again, and then she’s doubling over in laughter, loud enough for the passengers around them to look over at them in curiosity. Kris just manages to nod in apology at them with a sheepish smile on his face, before he turns back to look at the girl, confused by her reaction.  
  
“Did I say something wrong?” Kris whispers urgently, already horrified beyond belief.  
  
She wipes a stray tear with a finger and takes in a deep breath to compose herself, but even then short bouts of laughter were still escaping her. “I wasn’t talking to my boyfriend,” she giggles, all traces of embarrassment gone. “I’m actually – ah, how should I put this – I work on the phone sex hotline.”  
  
One of Kris’s eyebrows shoots up. Surely he didn’t hear her right? “Excuse me?”  
  
“I’m working as a phone se–” The girl starts again, oblivious to the growing horror on Kris’s face. Kris nearly lunges forward to stop her from saying anything more, but he catches himself in the nick of time and raises his hands to interrupt her – politely – instead. Thankfully, she takes the hint, but the way she cocks her head slightly to the side with her innocent eyes wide as she looks at him makes Kris swallow hard again.  
  
He wonders if she’s truly innocent, or if she’s playing coy. He banks on the latter, if his experience while being seated next to her on the bus last week was any indication of it.  
  
“Do you do that in public often?” The question slips off Kris’s tongue before he can even filter his words, and he turns a deep shade of red when his mind finally catches up. That isn’t the type of question he should be asking someone he barely even knew. “I mean– Shit, you don’t have to answer that.”  
  
Her only response is a tinkling laughter, and then she’s walking past him just as the bus comes to a stop. He hadn’t even realised the bus had moved at all after their near-accident. “I’ll let you know _if_ we happen to meet again.” The girl winks at him and gives him a slight wave. Kris’s heart does a weird flip, and he stares at her as she bounces off the bus, her footsteps light.  
  
He smiles to himself when he feels the remnants of her warmth on his skin that makes his nerve endings tingle, and his eyes follow her as she crosses the street and blends in with the crowd.  
  
The girl intrigues him.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
"Are you stalking me?"  
  
Kris is in the midst of enjoying his rare Saturday afternoon off at the local café he frequents, sipping on a mug of his favourite Espresso while flipping through a recently-bought novel, when the melodious voice invaded his senses. He inhales his coffee from shock, and nearly sends it spraying out of his nostrils, but Kris is fast to swallow before he makes an utter embarrassment of himself.  
  
He looks up when he's done dabbing a serviette against his coffee-stained lips, and he’s surprised by the sight of the girl who's glancing down at him, the amusement twinkling in her bright, wide eyes.  
  
"I– I’m not stalking you!" Kris insists, the blood draining from his face at the thought that the girl might have misunderstood him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”  
  
To his confusion, the girl laughs. "I know. I'm just teasing you," she says, and her eyeliner-lined eyes sweep towards the empty seat across Kris. “May I join you? Or is my presence not welcomed?”  
  
Kris almost flails in at the sudden question, but he manages to compose himself enough to gesture good-naturedly at the seat. “Be my guest, uh–” He blinks, not knowing how he should address her. He hasn’t had a chance to ask for her name yet, what with the awkward circumstances surrounding their previous two meetings.  
  
“Luhan.” She offers without much thought, her smile blinding as she eases into the armchair. “It’s really a pleasant surprise to see you here, though.”  
  
“It is,” Kris agrees easily and puts away his novel, figuring he isn’t going to get any reading done, now that he has company. He waits for Luhan to place her order before he speaks again. “Do you come here often? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”  
  
Luhan nods. “Yeah; almost daily, in fact." She says thoughtfully, and Kris decides he likes this side of her, too. "Maybe we've crossed paths before, but have never realised it. It's funny how you don't really notice another person unless they're striking enough to gain your attention."  
  
Kris looks at her and takes in porcelain white skin, wide eyes, beautifully glossed lips, and soft brown curls, and thinks to himself, _you're striking enough to me, so why have I never noticed you earlier?_ Instead he says, with a broad grin, "Deep, but I agree with you. You sound like someone who reads a lot; I believe I've heard that phrase from somewhere."  
  
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Luhan smiles mysteriously, and they launch into a lengthy conversation about their lives, talking to each other like old friends would.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Between finding out that Luhan’s actually a medical student and the fact that they were born in the same year and them talking about books they both enjoy, Luhan’s phone had rung. _It’s the same client from when I was on the bus with you,_ she had mouthed to him, the awkwardness filling the spaces between them once again, and had wanted to excuse herself to entertain her client, but Kris insisted for her to stay, and promised her that he wouldn’t eavesdrop again. They were, after all, seated in an isolated corner of the café with no one else around them, so she would have all the privacy she needed. Luhan had reluctantly agreed, if only because of Kris’s vehement insistence.  
  
In retrospect, Kris should’ve known that keeping his mind off Luhan’s (supposedly) private conversation with her client would be an impossible task to accomplish, especially when they were separated by less than a metre's distance. Even if her voice had been nothing more than a bare whisper in contrast to the buzzing conversation happening around them, he could hear her perfectly well.  
  
Which is why an hour later, Kris finds himself cooped up in one of the bathroom stalls at the café with a hand fisted around his half-hard dick as strangled moans leave his lips, silently hurling curses at himself for being stupid enough to stay there. As if he hasn’t already had a taste of what Luhan’s voice and vivid descriptions could do to his other head.  
  
He’d been expecting her to do another blowjob through the phone, because at least he knows what’s in store for him and he thinks he could deal with that. But when Luhan had released a shaky breath into the receiver, along with a sinfully erotic “You want me to touch myself? Here? In the café?”, Kris was promptly frozen in place.  
  
He had barely made it to the washroom before he made a mess out of himself, excusing himself from the table with a flimsy excuse that his stomach wasn’t being agreeable with something he’d eaten earlier. Luhan hadn’t given his reason much thought, only nodding in acknowledgement as she continued to entertain her very needy client.  
  
Kris can’t forget anything Luhan had said over the phone, and he pumps his dick a little faster when the imageries replay themselves in his mind, biting on his free arm to muffle his grunts.  
  
He imagines Luhan’s hand resting on top of his, slowly guiding it up her miniskirt and over her clothed heat. A soft moan leaves her slightly parted lips when she applies pressure to Kris’s hand and presses his calloused digits against her slit, and she makes him rub his fingers against her sensitive spot. She’s wearing a thong beneath, and without much of a warning, Kris plunges a finger into her, relishing in the way she squirms under his touch, keening and begging for more friction.  
  
Kris also imagines himself peppering Luhan’s neck with kisses, being mindful of the café staff at the same time, as he scissors her with yet another finger, working up his pace until she’s reduced to a shuddering mess. But he doesn’t allow her to get her release, not without him, and Kris pulls her up onto his lap. He carefully unzips his pants and pulls out his painfully hard erection, then slowly impales her with it.  
  
He doesn’t get to finish his thoughts, however, the sensory overload too much for him to bear, and Kris comes with a strangled groan, the whiteness spilling over his hand. It takes a while before he regains his senses and to clean himself up, and an even longer while before Kris thinks the colour in his face looks normal enough for him to step out of the bathroom without arousing anyone’s suspicions. He crosses his fingers and hopes that Luhan doesn’t question his prolonged absence.  
  
In a twisted way, he gets his wishes fulfilled, if only because Luhan’s nowhere to be seen when he returns to his table. Instead, he finds a piece of paper under his book, with Luhan’s neat handwriting printed across it in Chinese, and a set of numbers meticulously written at the bottom.  
  
_Sorry I had to leave first; urgent matters to attend to at the university.  
Hope your stomach’s feeling better!  
Also, I took the liberty of paying for your expenses today as apology.  
You do owe me lunch, though! ;)  
Hope to see you soon.  
  
\- Luhan_  
  
  
Despite his disappointment at being unable to continue with their conversation, Kris finds himself smiling at the note.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“You’re being a little creepy today, Yifan. Creepier than usual.”  
  
His colleague’s voice (and the use of his Chinese name) drags Kris out of his reverie back into present time, and it’s not until he meets Yixing’s eyes, which are aimed at the piece of paper in Kris’s hand, that he realises he’s drifted off in the middle of his work. Again.  
  
“Fuck you, Yixing.” Kris says with feeling, and tries hard to fight the blush that’s attempting to colour his cheeks as he stuffs Luhan’s note back into his pocket as naturally as he can. Kris does not blush. Never ever. _Ever._  
  
“You wish you could tap this,” Yixing taunts back, slapping his own ass for good measure, and Kris pretends to gag at his gesture. He flips a finger at Yixing when the younger man cackles, wondering who in the right frame of mind could think of Yixing as an angel. Yixing’s far from being one, that devilish little shit.  
  
“What do you want.” Kris finally snaps at him when he’s tired of making Yixing stop, and sinks into his swivel chair. He’s grateful that he has a friend like Yixing, but sometimes the headache he gets from Yixing is just a little too much to bear. “Don’t you have work to do?”  
  
Yixing shrugs. “That can wait. I’m more curious about that piece of paper. You’ve been daydreaming at it for days now.” There’s a devious smile on his lips, but Kris wondered, very belatedly after, why the panic alarm in his head hadn’t worked to warn him against it.  
  
“It’s just a to-do list.” Kris lies. He can literally feel the heat creeping up his neck, and he pretends to occupy himself by turning back towards his computer. Except, Kris learns later, that it’s a _very_ bad idea.  
  
Yixing is fast to swipe the piece of paper which is jutting out of Kris’s pocket when he least expects it. Kris immediately lunges for it, but he’s no match for Yixing’s perfected skills at keeping things out of Kris’s reach, even if he’s at a grave disadvantage in terms of body size, and he definitely can’t beat Yixing’s speed-reading abilities.  
  
There’s a shit-eating grin on Yixing’s face when he’s done. “When you say _to-do_ list, I certainly hope you weren’t talking about _doing_ this girl–” Yixing pauses as he takes another look at the note, “–Luhan, is it?”  
  
Kris positively turns red at the question, because _yes_ he’s thought about it (and had even fapped to her twice, fuck it), but he’s not about to admit that to Yixing.  
  
“Don’t be stupid.” He snaps instead and snatches the note back, but Yixing offers no resistance now that he’s read it. He half-hopes that Yixing would leave him alone after having his daily dose of his Kris-torturing regime, but Yixing drags his chair over and flops down next to Kris, staring at Kris until he finally gives up and looks at him.  
  
“What.”  
  
Yixing flashes a row of pearly whites at Kris. “Sneaky bastard. I didn’t even know you were dating.”  
  
“I’m not dating Luhan, if that’s what you’re talking about.” Kris makes a face at Yixing.  
  
Yixing doesn’t seem as though he believes in Kris, but then he does a double take and nods solemnly. “That makes sense,” he says. “You’re so uptight. It’d be a miracle if you could get a girl to like you at all.”  
  
“ _Fuck_ you–”  
  
“Anyway,” Yixing interrupts Kris before he could say anything else, getting himself just out of Kris’s hitting range. “Quit overthinking things. Ring her up before it’s too late for you to do anything about it.”  
  
Kris blinks in confusion when Yixing reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. _Huh_ , who knew Yixing could give useful advices when Kris needed it most?  
  
  
\--  
  
  
It takes another couple of days before Kris actually works up the courage to ring Luhan up. Even then, he cancels the call multiple times before it even gets connected. Yixing eventually gets tired of seeing Kris chicken out of it; he grabs Kris’s phone and dials Luhan’s number, pushing Kris away until someone finally picks up. Only then does Yixing shove the phone back into Kris’s hand.  
  
Kris heaves a defeated sigh, and reluctantly presses the phone to his ear, making a mental note to kick Yixing out of his apartment if he survives this ordeal.  
  
“Hello–” is all that Kris manages to say, when he’s frozen in place by a breathy moan.  
  
“Hello, _baby_ , how would you like me to fuck you today?” For one moment, Kris wonders if he’d accidentally dialled the number to a phone sex hotline, but the recognition pulses in him when the woman speaks up again. “Would you like me to ride you? 69? Or do you want me to finger myse–” It’s definitely Luhan’s voice, and Kris chastises himself because he’s sure Luhan’s told him she entertains most of her clients at night.  
  
Kris coughs into the receiver to get her attention. “Luhan, uh. It’s me. Kris.”  
  
There’s a long moment of stunned silence, and then there’s a sharp gasp coming from the other side of the line, followed closely by the sound of a heavy object slamming against a hard surface. Kris winces at the thought that Luhan might’ve fallen off her chair from shock, and he manages a meek “Are you okay?” into the phone.  
  
“Shit, I’m so _so_ sorry about that!” Luhan apologises, and Kris dryly recounts the amount of awkward moments they’ve shared between them. “I mixed up between my work phone and my personal phone and–” She cuts herself off, probably embarrassed. Kris stifles a laugh when he hears more muffled curses coming through the phone.  
  
“Luhan, it’s fine. Chill,” he tells her soothingly. “Sorry I took so long to call you up. Am I interrupting anything right now?” Yixing shuffles back into Kris’s room then, presumably to bring more misery to Kris’s life, and Kris aims a kick at him to get him out. He tentatively ignores the impish grin on Yixing’s face, quickly shutting the door behind him before Yixing can get any ideas.  
  
Thankfully, Luhan gets over things pretty fast. “No! No.” She exclaims, her upbeat mood back in place. “I was just revising. What’s up?”  
  
“It’s about me owing you lunch.” Kris breathes, suddenly feeling nervous. What if she rejects him? “Does– Does the offer still stand?”  
  
The laughter that bubbles from her is an instant relief. “Yes. Yes, of course. I should have some free time on Sunday.”  
  
“Great, I’ll see you on Sunday then.” He says, and calmly ends the call.  
  
Apparently, Yixing has some sort of telepathic powers – either that, or he had been pressing his ear against Kris’s door and eavesdropping on his conversation, not that Kris had been loud – because the very moment Kris lowers the phone, there’s a loud “SOMEONE’S FINALLY GETTING LAID” coming from his living room.  
  
In a fit of annoyance, Kris throws the door open, and shouts: “Shut the fuck up, Zhang Yixing, or I’m throwing you out of the balcony to your fucking death!”  
  
Despite the mad cackling that follows, which he knows he should be giving Yixing hell for, Kris can’t stop the smile that tugs at his lips.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
When Kris thinks of a lunch date, he pictures exactly that – two people seated in a café or a restaurant and having a chat over food, then perhaps adjourn to another place for coffee. He definitely wasn’t expecting to get dragged into one store after another in Myeongdong, shopping for mountains of clothes. Perhaps Luhan has a less-than-conventional definition for ‘lunch date’, but Kris doesn’t get the chance to ask, either.  
  
Then again, Kris is extremely confused as to why they’re shopping for _his_ clothes instead of _hers_. It probably has something to do with the weird look on Luhan’s face when they had met up at the exit of the Myeongdong subway station earlier, after she’d given him a sweeping glance from head to toe. He had barely said a word to her, let alone tell her she looked beautiful in her sweet pink sundress, and before he could even comprehend what was going on, her fingers were already curled around his wrist, urging for him to follow her.  
  
“We’re going shopping,” Luhan had announced when Kris had asked her, as if that solved Kris’s running queries.  
  
Ten consecutive boutiques and frequent trips into and out of fitting rooms later, Kris finds himself exhausted beyond belief, and he thinks he can hear his wallet and credit card bills crying on his behalf. He has never been on such an intensive shopping trip before, and he suddenly has a newfound sense of admiration for Luhan’s stamina.  
  
Kris chokes a little when his thoughts wander a little _too_ far. He kicks himself for it.  
  
When Luhan’s about to step into yet another boutique several shops away from the one they had just walked out of, Kris panics and reaches forward to grab hold of her. “Luhan, wait.” He says, almost going cross-eyed from exhaustion. “What’s with the sudden enthusiasm in doing shopping on my behalf?”  
  
Luhan laughs a little at his bewildered look. She closes the distance between them, and fixes the collar of Kris’s new shirt for him. Kris instinctively turns away to hide his blush, suddenly all too aware of how close Luhan is to him. He can even smell her shampoo.  
  
“Don’t you think you look better now?” Luhan asks. Kris is mildly disappointed when she takes a step back with her hands behind her. There’s a satisfied smile on her face, as if admiring her handiwork. “Sorry to say, but your fashion sense is atrocious. Pairing a top with extremely loud prints with pants of the equal magnitude is a fashion _faux pas_. It’s no wonder you didn’t have any girlfriends before this.”  
  
_Ouch_ , Kris could feel the stab in his chest, but he ignores it, only because it’s Luhan. “So... this is a wardrobe revamp of sorts?”  
  
“Yup!” She nods, and pulls him towards a window with her. “Look,” Luhan points at their reflection in the display window, “we have a repackaged Kris Wu now.”  
  
Kris hadn’t paid much attention to his brand new image before this, but now that he’s looking closely, he finds himself being surprised at the sight of him in a dress shirt and jeans. Kris also thinks he and Luhan look cute together, standing like this, but he swallows those thoughts soon after. It’s way too early into their acquaintance for them to have anything special at all, not that Kris has been thinking about it.  
  
He clears his throat again and turns to look at her. “It’s all thanks to you, Luhan.” Kris smiles. He’s surprised when the rosy tint on her cheeks turned a shade darker – is she blushing?  
  
“Well I think we should go grab a bite now. I’m starving after all that shopping.” Luhan suggests. Kris doesn’t know if he’s imagining things, but her words seem to come out a little rushed, and he thinks, for the umpteenth time, that Luhan is adorable.  
  
Out loud, he says, “I thought you’d never ask.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“You’re completely whipped.” Yixing remarks when he finds Kris staring at his phone for another moment too long, a couple of days after Kris’s so-called _date_ with Luhan at Myeongdong. Kris has been in constant contact with Luhan ever since, and Yixing has taken it upon himself to annoy Kris even more. “So totally whipped.”  
  
Kris looks up from his phone and scowls at Yixing. “I’m not whipped, fuck you.” He snaps, then does a double take at the window and back at Yixing, who’s about to rummage through Kris’s fridge for something to drink. “And why exactly are you in my apartment again at this time of the night?”  
  
Yixing peers around the door of the fridge with a completely innocent face – as innocent as demons can get, at least. “Am I not welcomed here anymore?”  
  
“Not if you’re freeloading. Last I checked, you have your own apartment.”  
  
Yixing pretends not to hear him. “Have you fucked her yet?”  
  
It takes five more seconds for Kris to grab Yixing by the scruff of his shirt and throw him out of the house. Yixing continues to flood Kris’s Whatsapp inbox with the word _whipped_ that night, though, and Kris wonders if he could get away with blocking Yixing off his list of contacts. Then he remembers about the project they’re supposed to work on together, and Kris buries his face in his pillow with a loud groan.  
  
What has he done to deserve this torture?  
  
  
\--

 

Kris is quick to learn, after his seventh (or was it the eighth?) date with Luhan, that she has a peculiar habit of sticking her face into someone else’s personal bubble, just to scrutinise some minor details on their faces.  
  
It’s not that he minds it, not really, but whenever Luhan does that to him, he gets the feeling that she’s able to read his thoughts, peeling him away layer by layer to see what he’s hiding beneath it all. That, and Kris has the propensity to turn scarlet whenever Luhan’s perfect lips are too close for comfort. He’s been having a hard time trying not to kiss her full on the mouth – not that he’s allowed to, when they have no name to pin on the relationship they shared – and she’s not making things any easier for him.  
  
(He doesn’t think they’re dating, just two friends meeting up frequently over coffee or lunch or movies or, on the rare occasion, shopping.)  
  
From the distance, or the distinct lack thereof, Kris can almost count the amount of blemishes she has on her face (close to none), and he instinctively draws back slightly. “What?” He blurts out, flustered. “Do I have hair dye on my face or something?”  
  
Luhan giggles at his question and shakes her head. Kris is suddenly all too aware of the ridiculous amount of attention they’re drawing, if the curious stares he catches out of the corner of his eyes are anything to go by. “No, I was just thinking that you resemble those princely characters in mangas. Blonde? Really?”  
  
Kris blushes, because he’s never thought of himself as being  _princely_. Trust Luhan to get him even more flustered than before. “ _You_  were the one who picked the colour out for me!” He frowns at her, only to earn more peals of laughter from the girl. He jogs after Luhan when she suddenly takes off, though it doesn’t take much effort for him to fall in next to her again.  
  
“Step out of the boring Kris Wu mould for a while. Enjoy the attention while you can,” Luhan comments with a grin, and Kris splutters again. Her smile is almost blinding.  
  
“You think I’m boring?” Kris asks, indignant but not quite offended. Yixing has called him boring multiple times, though he isn’t sure if Yixing’s a reliable informant in that sense. It almost seems as though Yixing has made it his life mission to make Kris’s life as miserable as he can.  
  
“I think this is a good way for you to finally get a girlfriend.” Luhan says, and the honesty in her voice is palpable, in place of the teasing intonation she had been using. She evidently remembers his playful lamentation the other day about being out of the dating scene for the past few years because of his odd working hours, and is trying her best to help him out with it.  
  
Somehow, the thought makes his heart constrict painfully and he’s sure he’s not supposed to feel this way.  
  
 _But I don’t want to date someone that’s not you_ , Kris hears himself think moments later, and he abruptly puts a stop to that, because hold the fuck up, where did that even come from?  
  
He doesn’t even realise that he’d stopped in his tracks completely, until Luhan calls out his name and he finds that she’s a distance away from him, tilting her head to the side questioningly.  
  
Kris swallows hard and ignores his racing pulse, doing his best to act as normally as he can, before he joins her again.  
  
He keeps a careful distance from her for the rest of the day, feeling thankful when she doesn’t even realise it.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Kris soon learns that there are many facets to Luhan’s character that he doesn’t know of. She’s akin to a mystery waiting for him to solve, and even if it’s taking up a lot of his time to do so, he oddly doesn’t mind.  
  
“When have you ever been  _this_  interested in someone before?” Yixing had asked him one day, when he’s tired of mocking Kris for his gaudy hair colour because Kris doesn’t ever take the bait anymore. It had taken Kris several minutes and more to ponder about the question, yet he could not come up with an answer.  
  
(The voice at the back of his mind tells him Luhan's the first, but he refuses to believe it.)  
  
Right now, staring wide-eyed at the screen in front of him with his jaw unhinged for what probably is the fifth time that day as Luhan punches in her name for the high score, Kris discovers a new side of Luhan, and he has to admit he’s thoroughly impressed. With her sweet face and even brighter smile, no one would have expected her to be a pro-gamer, yet here she is, beating him in Zombies Attack without even breaking a sweat. Even her gun-holding stance was perfect.  
  
She had even kicked his ass in Initial D, and  _that_  says a lot. Kris had never lost in the game before.  
  
Until today.  
  
“So,” Luhan chirps after she returned the gun into its placeholder, raising her voice over the noise in the arcade. The amount of digits in her score makes Kris’s head spin. “I believe you were saying something about girls being lousy in arcade games?” She’s grinning widely at him with her hands on her hips, expressions smug. Around them, the crowd which had gathered to watch them play were beginning to disperse, murmuring amongst themselves, no doubt talking about Luhan’s gaming skills. Kris recognises several of them who’d been watching since Luhan and him had started off their gaming spree with Jurassic Park.  
  
Kris can’t stop the amused laughter that bubbles out of his chest. “Wow,” he says a little breathlessly, feeling as though she’d physically punched him in the gut. It’s not too far from the truth, though, when his male pride has been wounded so severely within the span of two hours. “Where did you learn how to game like that?”  
  
"When you have a cousin brother who's a gaming addict and none of his sisters are willing to play with him, you'd end up as scapegoat eventually." She quips as they made their way out of the arcade, cheekily sticking her tongue out.  
  
"That sounds intense." Kris laughs, and Luhan giggles along.  
  
"It is. Chanyeol's made sure I could keep him entertained enough  _and_  not embarrass him if I ever laid my hands on any of these arcade machines.” Luhan rolls her eyes playfully. “He’s simultaneously the best and worst cousin I could ever have.”  
  
“You seem to be really close to Chanyeol.” Kris can hear the fondness in her voice, and see the way her gaze softens when Luhan talks about Chanyeol. There’s a pang of irrational jealousy that surfaces within him, and he desperately tries to push it away.  
  
“Yeah.” Luhan nods. “I’ve lived with him for years, and still am–” She starts to say again, when she’s interrupted by an incoming phone call, and they both pause in their tracks.  
  
Luhan chews on her bottom lip as her phone continues to ring, and she shoots a hesitant look at Kris, who replies with a questioning one. “Aren’t you going to pick that up?”  
  
“I–” She begins, then heaves a resigned sigh. “I guess I should. Can you wait here for a moment? I promise I’ll be back soon.”  
  
Kris nods and watches as Luhan walks away to answer the call. He could feel the tightness in his chest when he notices that she’s answering her  _other_  phone, and he realises with a start why she had appeared so conflicted earlier.  
  
He hates himself for not realising it sooner.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
When he’s with Luhan, Kris almost forgets that she’s not merely a medical student.  _Almost._  
  
It’s at times like these that he feels the possessiveness rearing its ugly head, when Luhan’s attending to the clients from her part-time job as a phone sex operator. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like her entertaining horny men who have to depend on a stranger’s voice to jack off. He doesn’t want to share his Luhan with anyone else.  
  
The rational part of himself insists he doesn’t have the right to dictate what Luhan should or should not do, because they’re only friends, and there are boundaries he shouldn’t be crossing. The selfish part of himself says boundaries be fucked.  
  
He listens to the selfish part instead, and the anger builds up within him as he waits for Luhan to finish her call.  
  
When she finally does, the level of Kris’s irritation is close to tipping the scale, and the words spill from his lips without passing through his rational mind. “Aren’t you tired of doing that?” He snaps, and almost regrets it when Luhan appears taken aback by the sudden comment, but he stays firm, if only because he's driven entirely by jealousy now.  
  
“Doing what?”  
  
“Phone sex,” he points out crossly. “Or do you enjoy hearing faceless humans moaning to your voice? Because I can totally indulge you with the real thing–" He gets interrupted by a hard slap across his cheek, and he’s stunned speechless as his skin burns from the hit.  
  
“Do you seriously think I  _enjoy_  doing this? Some friend you are.” Luhan’s voice is eerily calm, but Kris notices how she’s breathing heavily, probably from the effort of keeping her emotions in check. A deep pang of guilt hits him right in the chest when he sees the unshed tears welled up in her eyes, and he thinks,  _no this isn’t right._  
  
Luhan speaks up again before Kris can get a word in. “Can’t you see I don’t have a choice? This is the only thing that offers me enough flexibility to earn money to pay off my tuition fees without jeopardising my studies.” She breathes, running her fingers through her hair in frustration, and she averts her gaze from Kris. He wants to hold her in his arms, to apologise to her for being such a douchebag, but Kris finds that he can’t move a muscle. His fingers curl into tightly-clenched fists by his side at his own inaction.  
  
“I hate this. I really do.” Luhan’s voice has dropped to a whisper now, and Kris’s heart aches at how  _broken_  she sounds. “But when you have a father who gambles away your family’s money and leaves you with a mountain of debts, you have to take up the dirtiest offers to keep yourself alive.”  
  
Kris’s eyes widen at the sudden revelation. Luhan has never been one to talk about her family, preferring to change the subject whenever Kris asks her about her parents, but now he knows part of the reason why. He instinctively reaches for her arm. “Luhan–”  
  
He catches thin air when she takes a step away from him, still not quite meeting his eyes, and Luhan turns her back to him after another second’s consideration. “Forget it.” Luhan shakes her head. Kris can hear the disappointment in her trembling voice. “I don’t expect you to understand.”  
  
And then Luhan’s walking away, disappearing into the crowd out of Kris’s reach. Kris drops his outstretched hand, and takes in a deep breath. The guilt doesn’t stop gnawing at him.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Luhan doesn’t contact Kris, nor does she respond to his calls or text messages for the rest of the week. And the week after that. And then some more.  
  
Kris wonders if a million apologies would ever be enough.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
"You're an absolute dick." Yixing says calmly as he takes a sip of his green tea, cracking an eye open at Kris who’s lying on the sofa nursing his massive hangover.  
  
Yixing, who’d noticed that Kris had been in a depressed mood for the last couple of weeks, had coerced Kris into drinking with him in his apartment unit to ‘talk it out’ on the previous night – except, Kris was the one who’d been drinking, and Yixing was the one doing all the listening. Apparently, Kris talks  _a lot_  when he’s drunk, and even then, he can still construct perfectly coherent sentences.  
  
Now, if only he could remember everything he had told Yixing.  
  
“Thanks, Yixing. You’re definitely making me feel heaps better.” Kris says sarcastically, but groans out loud when Yixing lands a particularly hard kick against the side of the sofa. It jerks him rather violently, and Kris swears he can still feel his brain rattling against his skull long after.  
  
“You’re welcome.” Yixing smiles beatifically and settles his mug on the coffee table. “Seriously, though. I can’t believe you actually said something like that to a girl. I’d say you fully deserved that slap.”  
  
Kris winces at the reminder. “As if I don’t already know that.” He looks up from beneath the warm towel over his forehead when he feels Yixing’s gaze burning into him. “What?”  
  
“You really like this Luhan girl, don’t you.”  
  
“Don’t be stupid.” Kris says a little too quickly, cheeks flushed red, and Yixing grins knowingly at him. “She’s a good friend of mine, and you know how I am when it comes to making friends.”  
  
“Hmm.” Yixing hums noncommittally, not quite believing in Kris’s words. Kris wishes he would stop being so insightful. “If she’s ignoring your calls, then march right up to her and apologise. I don’t see what’s so difficult about it. And don’t you forget to bring some peace offerings too.”  
  
Kris sits up abruptly, eyes bright at the suggestion, momentarily forgetting all about his massive headache. “Yixing, you’re a genius!” is all that Kris manages to say, before he’s curling up into a ball again, moaning at the pain that wreaks havoc in his head.  
  
Yixing cackles at his suffering.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Kris is beginning to think his efforts of waiting outside Luhan’s university – or at least he  _thinks_  it’s Luhan’s university – is going to waste after all. He’s been standing there since the morning, faking a sick leave (which he had needed to bribe his doctor with more duck plushies for) in the process, but Luhan remains nowhere to be seen.  
  
Instead, he invites the stares from lots of curious onlookers (he thinks he should be getting used to this by now), with his ridiculous height and hair and, a few girls had told him in between giggling fits, his modelesque appearance. Like what.  
  
 _I hate you and your ridiculous suggestions,_  he types in a text to Yixing just to vent his frustration, but his heart stops when he catches sight of familiar brown locks and fair skin passing him by, and he calls out for her in a state of panic, afraid he’ll lose sight of her again.  
  
Luhan slows in her tracks and turns around when she hears her name, eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but when her gaze lands on Kris, she walks away immediately. It’s evident she’s still pissed at him for what he’d said, and Kris kicks himself mentally again before jogging after Luhan.  
  
“Luhan, wait,” he pleads. “Can I have a word with you? Please?”  
  
Luhan glares at him, and keeps walking. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”  
  
In a last ditch attempt, Kris makes a grab for Luhan’s arm, being careful not to hurt her, and effectively stopped her in her tracks. She flings him off with surprising ease, but makes no further move to get away from him. “I’m giving you five minutes before I’m calling for sexual harassment.”  
  
Kris jumps at the chance. “Look, I’m really sorry for what I said the other day. It’s just–”  _I was being a jealous bastard._  “–I wasn’t thinking straight.”  
  
Luhan raises an eyebrow at him. “They say words spoken without thought are the truest words from your heart.”  
  
Kris positively splutters at her comment. “No! I didn’t mean them, really. Not all of them, anyway.” He gulps. Why is this so difficult? “I know you need the money to support your studies, but I don’t like seeing you dabble in that line of work. I don’t think it suits a girl like you.”  
  
“Are you... jealous?” Luhan chances, and the lines of her body are a little less guarded than before.  
  
“...a little.” Kris admits, flushing red up to the tips of his ears. He vaguely thinks he doesn’t mind getting embarrassed in exchange for Luhan’s slightly more relaxed stance. “Thing is– I came here to apologise for all the stupid things I’ve said. I never meant to insult you, or hurt you, and I know you’re probably never going to forgive me for a long while, but I thought I should at least try–” Kris rambles on, and doesn’t stop until Luhan rests her hand on his upper arm. He looks up in surprise.  
  
Luhan’s smiling at him. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t remotely angry at you–” she starts, “–but I kind of forgave you after all those messages you’ve sent.”  
  
“What–”  
  
“We’ve all said stupid things before, but since you said you’re sorry for it, it wouldn’t be fair for me to remain angry at you, now would it?”  
  
Kris’s eyes widen. “Really?” Luhan nods. “So we can go back to being friends?”  
  
A tinkling laugh. “Of course. I enjoy being around you. It would be a shame if we’d stopped talking altogether.”  
  
That’s when Kris remembered about the peace offering sitting primly in his pocket. “I know this might sound a little creepy, but I happened to chance upon your Facebook account–” It’s a lie; Yixing had tracked her account down on Kris’s behalf, on the condition that he be given free access to Kris’s fully-stocked fridge. “–and I found out you’re a huge Manchester United fan. So I was thinking, maybe you’d like this?”  
  
He picks out the tickets for the upcoming friendly between Manchester United and the Korean national team from his pocket, and brandishes it in front of Luhan. He stifles a laugh when her eyes grow to the size of saucers.  
  
“SHUT UP!” Luhan practically screams, oblivious to the judging looks from the passersby. “These were sold old  _months_  ago! How did you get them?!”  
  
 _A desperate seller with ridiculously inflated ticket prices and a whole lot of money_ , Kris thinks to himself, but he figures it’s worth it after all, even if he isn’t sure why he’s going through such lengths for someone he considers as only a friend.  
  
( _“You’re in love with her, I’m sure.”_ Yixing had told him before, only to be rewarded with a pillow in his face.)  
  
“A friend,” he lies instead. She doesn’t have to know how much he’d paid for them, because he’s sure she would refuse to take those tickets. “Something cropped up at the last minute and he was desperate to let these tickets go. So... do you want to go to the match with me?”  
  
“You know, I might just love you for this.” Luhan quips with a wide grin. Kris ignores the way his heartbeat speeds up at her words.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Kris conveniently leaves out the fact that he’s not even interested in soccer, and spends the entire match watching Luhan instead of the events going on on the field.  
  
There’s something peculiar in the way the corners of his lips curl up into a smile when he sees how excited Luhan is, decked in full Manchester United colours and cheering for her favourite players on the team. He has met girls who are interested in soccer, but none as enthusiastic as Luhan. She reminds Kris of himself, when he’s fully immersed in a nail-biting basketball match. He decides he might actually start liking the game, if only to have something in common to talk to Luhan about.  
  
It’s not until Luhan pulls him into a hug when Rooney scores the first goal that Kris realises that Yixing has been right all along, that he really might be in love with Luhan. His heart pounds wildly against his chest at the contact, and he doesn’t want to ever let go.  
  
The thought scares him more than it should.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
They’re laughing and shoving at each other as they made their way into Luhan’s apartment, their hair dripping wet from the rain, clothes completely soaked. Kris and Luhan had to run from the stadium to the nearest bus stand to catch a bus back to the heart of the city, because Luhan had discouraged him from driving to the match earlier – only, they had miscalculated the fact that it was going to rain after the match, and neither of them had brought umbrellas along. Kris had wanted to see Luhan off at her stop then make his way home, but Luhan had insisted for him to take a hot shower and have a change of clothes at her place while waiting out the rain.  
  
He’s no match for Luhan’s power of persuasion and her adorable pout.  
  
“Well, that was fun,” Kris laughs again as he shuts the door behind them, sighing contentedly at the warmth inside her apartment. He hadn’t realised how cold he was until he let out a particularly loud sneeze, which triggered more giggles from Luhan. “I’m curious though – you’re not planning on stuffing me in your clothes, are you?”  
  
Luhan shakes her head in amusement and gestures for him to follow when she notices how he’s sticking by the entrance, afraid to get the floor wet. “Remember that I was telling you about Chanyeol? This is actually his apartment. He’s not around tonight, so you can hang around for a bit. He’s a little shorter than you are, but I think his clothes should fit you just right.”  
  
Kris glances around as he trails after her, making a mental note to mop up the place when he’s all showered and dry. “Are you sure he wouldn’t mind?”  
  
“Nah, he’s cool.” Luhan tells him. She produces a comfortable looking pair of track pants and a loose shirt from the dresser, and flings a towel at Kris after, grinning widely. “You can use the bathroom out in the hall. It should have all the toiletries you need.”  
  
Kris looks down at the items in his hands, then back at Luhan. “I think I should leave. The rain’s stopping soon anyway–”  
  
Luhan rests her hands on her hips and shows him a dismayed look. “Are we seriously discussing this again? I  _insist_  that you stay, Kris. Besides–” she points out of the window, where it had started pouring again. “–I’m going to be labelled inhumane for letting you walk out of this place in that weather.”  
  
Kris sighs. “Fine then, princess. Your wish is my command.” He smiles when Luhan pats him fondly on the cheek before returning to her room. One night wouldn’t hurt, would it?  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Kris walks out of the bathroom freshly showered and clean ten minutes later, and is about to grab a mop to clean up the mess he’d made of the apartment, when he hears a heated one-sided argument going on in Luhan’s room. He catches the phrases ‘mom’ and ‘dad’, and guesses that Luhan’s probably on the phone with her parents. He feels guilty for eavesdropping, but his feet have propelled him forward before he could stop himself, making him walk on tiptoe towards her room.  
  
His heart wrenches painfully at how upset she sounds, and he wonders if she’s crying over the phone – there’s a slight tremble to her voice when she yells, packed with too much pent-up emotions.  
  
Kris presses his back against the door when Luhan screams a final  _I wish I hadn’t been born!_  into the receiver, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing convulsively when he could hear her sobbing loudly. He yearns to wrap his arms around her, even if she remains silent through it all, if only his gesture could make her feel a little better, but really, who is Kris Wu to Luhan but a friend? So he keeps his lips sealed, just standing there quietly, separated from Luhan by the door, hoping he could act as a silent encouragement to her.  
  
He doesn’t know how much time has passed until Luhan’s sobs have finally died down, and Kris turns to press his forehead against the door. “Luhan,” he says quietly, but the soft gasp that erupts from within tells him she could hear him just fine. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She replies not a second later. It’s a lie, he knows. He can almost hear the cracks in her voice, hastily held in place by sheer will alone, but he doesn’t call her out on it.  
  
His fingers curl against the wood. “I... overheard your conversation earlier. I’m sorry.” He sighs. “The rain has stopped so I’ll–” He swallows again. “I’ll be heading home now. Give me a call when you’re feeling better.”  
  
Just as Kris turns around to leave, though, he hears the click of the door unlocking, and he’s stunned when a pair of arms wrap around his waist, and Luhan’s burying her forehead into his back. “Don’t leave. Please.”  
  
In spite of him telling himself that he has to have some form of self-control, that he still doesn’t know where his relationship with Luhan stands, that he shouldn’t let his impulsiveness ruin whatever he’s managed to salvage, the warmth of Luhan’s body so close to him clouds his judgement. He gently pries her arms away, and turns around to look at her, his hands coming up to caress her face. He can still see the tracks the tears had left behind, and he wipes them away with the pads of his thumbs, before tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.  
  
The look in Luhan’s eyes when she glances up at him breaks the last of his resolve. He’s leaning down to close the distance between their faces before he even knows what he’s doing, watching in fascination how Luhan’s eyes flutter shut, her long lashes casting beautiful shadows over her face as she goes on tiptoes to meet him.  
  
Their kiss starts out chastely, with a soft brush of his lips against hers. He can taste the saltiness of tears on her lips, and he subconsciously deepens the kiss, eager to take away the sadness that seems to linger upon them. Kris relishes in how they seem to fit together perfectly, her smaller frame melding into his body. He lets out a soft grunt when Luhan’s tongue nudges at his lips.  
  
It gets hotter and messier after, their tongues tangling together, and Kris  _likes_  the sounds he’s prying out from the back of her throat, needy and sinful. He carefully guides them to the sofa, never really breaking apart from the kiss, and Luhan pushes him onto it before climbing on top of him. There’s desperation in the kisses they’re exchanging now, more on Luhan’s part, as though she doesn’t want this to stop. He doesn’t either.  
  
Kris’s hands slide up her shirt – he realised belatedly that she hasn’t taken her shower yet, and the coldness from the wet material of her blouse is a large contrast from the heat that radiates from her body – rubbing circles on the small of her back, and she presses even closer to him, her hips creating delicious friction against his clothed erection.  
  
When they finally break apart from their kiss, foreheads pressed together as they catch their breaths, Kris could feel the violent heaving of Luhan’s chest against his, and he wraps his arms around her, hugging her close to him. This is everything he’s wanted, everything he’s dreamed of, and he doesn’t want this moment to ever end.  
  
But he feels Luhan go stiff in his arms shortly after, and her palms are flat against his chest as she pushes herself away. The confusion is written all over her face, even as Kris asks her softly, “What’s wrong?”  
  
He swallows when the panic flashes across Luhan’s features, and she’s clambering off of him, putting as much distance between them as she could in the cramped up living room. Kris fights back the disappointment that rushes up to greet him.  
  
“I’m–” She stutters. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”  
  
Kris sits up and reaches for her, but he lets his arm fall limply by his side when she flinches and backs away from him. “Luhan, did I hurt you?” He tries again, but Luhan wouldn’t meet his gaze.  
  
“This–” Luhan starts. “–is wrong.”  
  
He doesn’t have to clarify with Luhan to know that she was talking about them, and whatever they had just done. Kris doesn’t understand why she had suddenly pulled away, doesn’t think she’s going to explain anything to him, if her closed-off expressions are anything to go by. All he could do is to close his eyes, holding himself back from keeping Luhan there with him when he could feel her walk past him, and he tries to swallow his emotions again.  
  
Kris lets his head fall on the armrest of the sofa in resignation when Luhan shuts the door to her room, hoping fervently that when he opens his eyes next, this would all have been but a dream.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
It remains a reality.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Luhan reminds Kris of a butterfly sometimes, with the colour of its wings so mesmerising that it instantly captivates him, enticing him to capture it in his hands so that he could slowly unravel the secrets behind its brilliance, but if he gets a little too close, it’ll fly away to protect its freedom, never to be seen again.  
  
The only thing it leaves behind is the ghost of its presence, the only indication that it had ever perched on the petals of a rose at all.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Fourteen days since Kris had let himself out of Luhan’s apartment in the middle of the night. Fourteen days since he’d heard from her at all.  
  
But Kris is still hanging on because he likes her too much to be able to let go that easily, even if she hadn’t provided him with any closure. He’s not one to force for answers, but he does make it a point to send her a text message everyday, just to ask how she’s doing.  
  
She doesn’t ever reply, but at least he knows she’s been reading them.  
  
Kris continues to count the days.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
He tries going to the café she frequents, on the pretense of doing his work away from his stuffy office cubicle. It’s a nine-to-nine thing.  
  
She doesn’t ever show up.  
  
He gives up a week later. The coffee no longer tastes the same.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“Waiting like this isn’t going to solve anything, you know,” Yixing tells him one day. It’s been fifty days since the incident at Luhan’s apartment. A frown has been permanently tattooed on Kris’s face ever since – or so Zitao tells him, and comments that it’s a good thing Kris doesn’t have to meet their customers, or he’d probably scare them off.  
  
Kris attempts a half-hearted smile at Yixing, whom only cringes in response. He assumes he looked constipated, and drops the act without being told to. There’s no one who knows Kris better than Yixing does, and Yixing’s thoughtful enough to not troll on him when he’s wallowing in self-pity. It’s probably the only consolation Kris can get out of this.  
  
“What else can I do except to wait?” He sighs instead. “The more I try to do _something_ , the more I seem to push her away.”  
  
“And you don’t know anyone else who can help you with this? To get her to talk to you?”  
  
Kris thinks about Chanyeol, and slumps in his chair. He hasn’t even met Luhan’s cousin before, let alone be qualified enough to ask him for favours. Besides, Chanyeol’s likely to side Luhan over him. Dead end.  
  
“I wish I did.”  
  
Yixing flashes him a wry smile and squeezes Kris’s shoulder in encouragement. Kris has never felt more helpless.  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Someone had told him before that he should be wary when making sudden changes in his routines. Kris never had the chance to find out how true that statement could get, until he finds himself surrounded by men (and women) in uniform, where the seemingly endless phone calls that streams into the station becomes nothing more than background noises.  
  
“One last question, Mr. Wu. I would appreciate it if you could pay attention to the investigation at hand.” A voice cuts through his thoughts, and Kris turns to look at the police officer who’s almost glaring at him, probably resenting him for his gross inattention.  
  
Kris had been invited on a trip to the police station for apparently engaging in stalkerish behaviour, because someone from Luhan’s neighbourhood thought he was acting suspiciously. Kris supposes he’d been a  _little_  creepy, because he’s been spending days on end waiting at the foot of Luhan’s apartment, glancing up at her room window in hopes he could catch her. He did see her, alright, and he’s kind of close to ninety-percent sure that she had been the one to ring up the police. Or her cousin Chanyeol, really, on the account that Chanyeol had yelled at him to leave because Luhan didn’t want to see him hanging around.  
  
Kris manages a wry smile at the officer. “Sorry. What is it?”  
  
“Do you have any travelling plans coming up in the recent weeks? Because we might have to bring you in for further questioning if the need arises.”  
  
Kris pretends to think for a moment, before he shakes his head. “No, I’ll be around. I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.”  
  
The police officer sends him another stern look, and allows Kris to leave after he’s done scrutinising Kris’s statement for irregularities.  
  
When he steps out of the station, however, someone taps him on the shoulder, causing him to turn around in alarm. He’s surprised when he’s greeted by the sight of a man who is about his height, and he hedges a careful “Yes?”  
  
“You’re Kris Wu, right?” The man asks, and Kris tries not to make an offhanded comment about how the man’s deep voice contradicts with his face.  
  
“Yeah, that would be me. Can I help you?”  
  
“I’m Chanyeol, Luhan’s cousin. I think we need to talk.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
“Sorry about that trip to the police station.” Chanyeol quips as he leans into the armchair, sipping on his Earl Grey. “Luhan begged me to do something about you, and that was the only way I could think of.”  
  
“It’s fine. My actions called for it anyway,” Kris says, but he thinks dryly of a thousand other ways Chanyeol could’ve drove him away from the area – like actually  _talking_  to him. He doesn’t comment on the issue. “How... is Luhan doing these days? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”  
  
“Miserable,” is all that Chanyeol says, as though he wants the words to sink into Kris’s brain. He’s definitely doing a fantastic job in guilt-tripping Kris.  
  
An uncomfortable silence settles in between them, dragging on long enough for Kris to start fidgeting in his seat (Kris almost never fidgets), before Chanyeol leans forward to regard Kris again. “What is Luhan to you? If you’re planning on fooling around with her, save it. I’m going to beat the shit out of you before you even get close enough.”  
  
Kris straightens himself in attention, knowing that this is his only chance at convincing Chanyeol to see things his way. “It has never been in my intentions to fool around with Luhan. I really,  _really_  like her, but she pushed me away before I even had the chance to tell her how I feel.”  
  
Chanyeol scrutinises him through slitted eyes for a moment longer, as if trying to uncover the lies behind Kris's words, and Kris fights the urge to swallow. Several more seconds pass them by before Chanyeol's expressions soften, and Kris can finally relax. "That's so Luhan." He says wistfully, thumbing the edge of his mug. "She still can't get rid of that knee jerk reaction after all these years."  
  
"Knee jerk reaction? What are you talking about?"  
  
Chanyeol raises an eyebrow at Kris. "You know how Luhan doesn't like talking about her parents, right?" Kris nods. "It all started from there. She doesn't believe in long-lasting relationships, doesn't want to put her trust in them, because her parents are trapped in an unhappy marriage but neither wants to leave. Luhan moved to Seoul and enrolled into med school here even though the schooling fees here cost her more much more than it would in Beijing, because she can't stand them arguing in front of her anymore."  
  
Kris feels sorry for Luhan. Now everything made sense to him. "Her father is a compulsive gambler, isn't he?"  
  
"Yeah. Her strong sense of fidelity compels her to send money home even though she's struggling to get by. She feels responsible to cover part of her father's gambling debts, since she’s an only child." Chanyeol says, his gaze dropping towards the table.  
  
"But that's ridiculous!" Kris almost yells, but catches himself just in time. "She doesn't have to do this if she doesn't want to."  
  
"Believe me, I tried telling her that.” Chanyeol rolls his eyes, and a smile finally finds its way to his lips. “That’s Luhan for you. Headstrong, stubborn, but too nice for her own good.”  
  
Kris finds himself nodding in agreement to his words. Somehow, Kris is glad Luhan has someone like Chanyeol to be there for her, acting like the brother she never had. It’s no wonder Luhan always speaks of Chanyeol fondly.  
  
“Her parents aren’t the only ones to blame, though.” Chanyeol says again, and Kris frowns. “Two guys she had loved and trusted in the most abused that trust, bedded her, and left. She hasn’t been dating for years since. So I guess you know why she pushed you away. She’s afraid of history repeating itself.”  
  
“Bastards.” Kris hisses under his breath and glares at his mug. He can’t believe anyone would exploit Luhan like that, and he wonders if he can pry their identities out of Chanyeol. A little rough housing is due. “I’m not going to do that to her. Not ever.”  
  
“You know, Luhan quit her job on that hotline.”  
  
Kris’s gaze snap up from his coffee at the sudden change in topic, and his eyes are wide. “She did? Why?” He remembers how Luhan had told him she needed the job even though she hated it, and he’s sure she’s ways off from graduating. It doesn’t make sense.  
  
“You. She left because of you, because you told her you didn’t like her entertaining customers on the phone sex hotline.” Chanyeol says, but his tone is non-accusatory. Kris’s heartbeat speeds up at the information. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but Luhan really likes you. She wants to put her trust in you, but you need to convince her that it’s worth the effort. I won’t hesitate to kick your ass if you hurt her.”  
  
Kris nods firmly. He’s glad Chanyeol’s giving him the chance to prove himself to Luhan, instead of keeping him away. “I won’t disappoint anyone.”  
  
  
\--  
  
  
Kris scuffs the sidewalk with the toes of his sneakers, feeling nervous all of a sudden. Even though Chanyeol had promised to convince Luhan to meet Kris so that they could have a much-needed talk, Kris doesn’t know if she would actually listen to Chanyeol. It felt like ages since Chanyeol had gone up to their shared apartment, but Luhan’s still nowhere in sight.  
  
Maybe she didn’t trust in him enough, after all.  
  
There’s a pang of disappointment at the thought of it, but Kris supposes he could see where Luhan’s coming from. He’d said some hurtful words to Luhan before, and he doesn’t blame her if she still holds a grudge against him. He hasn’t done enough to convince Luhan that she could depend on him, but he hopes he could have a shot at it.  
  
Kris runs a broad hand through his hair and makes a spin on the spot to dispel the jitteriness, but he abruptly stops mid-spin when he sees Luhan walking down the front steps of her apartment building. It has been sixty days since he’d last seen Luhan, and she’s thinner than he had remembered her to be, but Kris’s breath still catches in his throat regardless. The mere sight of Luhan tells Kris how much he actually misses her – it almost  _hurts._  
  
“Chanyeol told you everything, didn’t he?” Luhan says the moment she’s close enough to Kris, her eyes not quite meeting his. She’s rubbing her palms against her bare arms, and Kris wonders if she’s feeling cold. “That traitor.”  
  
Kris is torn between laughing and sighing at her words. “He means well,” he tells her instead. “I can see that he cares a lot about you.”  
  
“That’s probably his only saving grace.” Luhan’s grumbling by now, and Kris thinks Luhan has a different way of showing her affections. His thoughts linger on her parents and how upset they’d made her, and the pieces fall into place. He supposes he could get used to this.  
  
“I missed you. So much.” Kris says, earning a startled look from Luhan. The words had slipped from his lips before he could even stop them, but he doesn’t regret saying them at all. Words spoken without much thought are the truest.  
  
“I–” Luhan starts, appearing conflicted. She bites on her lower lip as she tries to construct her sentences, and ends up sighing instead. “Why do you still care about me when I’ve ignored you for so long?”  
  
There is resignation in her voice, one that makes Kris want to dispel those feelings from her mind, and he reaches forward to pull her into his embrace. Luhan gasps in surprise, her hands forming a flimsy barrier between his chest and hers, but Kris holds her still and buries his face in her hair.  
  
“Because you’re worth the effort, Luhan.” He tells her softly, and smiles when he feels her grip tightening on the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve fallen in love with you somewhere along the way, but I hope it’s not too late to let you know. I hate it when you’re sad. It’s just not right.”  
  
“Chanyeol tells me I’m a broken doll.” Luhan whispers. “He has warned you, hasn’t he? That it’s going to be difficult to fix me up?”  
  
Kris pulls her impossibly closer to him, hoping that she could somehow feel his sincerity through his actions. “I’m willing to try, no matter how long it takes. Would you give me a chance, Luhan?”  
  
His knees go weak when Luhan pushes herself away from him, thinking that she had rejected him, but then Kris sees the smile on her trembling lips and the happy tears in her eyes, and Kris instinctively knows what her answer is.  
  
The confirmation comes in the form of a shy nod and the press of her lips against his, and Kris thinks there’s nothing else he needs when Luhan’s in his arms. Finally.  
  
---  
  
 

 

 


End file.
